A Tale about a Smile
by Ann Pendragon
Summary: This will be a collection of one-shots, centering on the characters Patrick Jane and Theresa Lisbon. No particular order, but will always involve a smile...
1. A Smile

**DISCLAIMER: **Sadly, I do not own The Mentalist or any of its characters.

**AUTHORS NOTE:** This is my first and hopefully not my last Mentalist one-shot I shall place here. Patrick Jane has captured my muse and I'm running with it.

This little one shot came to me after watching the pilot in repeat. The end where Jane plays make-up with Lisbon using an origami jumping frog. It was her startled little gasp and his smile (possibly the first real one) he gave and then let fade before he turned away. I think making her smile brings him a little ray of light. A moment of normal maybe?

I have only seen a handful of the episodes, a late comer to this show. But I think the subject of smiles on the show bounces back between Jane's mega watt smile, the ones he coaxes out of Lisbon and Red Johns calling card crimson smiley.

**WARNING:** Curse words and some Jane angst. Last minute and un-beta'd, so we got some mistakes kids.

A Smile

by Anne Pendragon

He'd searched it out again, tricked it from her. Once more, Teresa Lisbon gave Patrick Jane her smile. It was never an entirely unselfish act on his part, but it was the least selfish thing he found himself doing on any regular basis.

The tough and forthright agent deserved to smile a hell of a lot more than life had allowed in her 32 years. It didn't take a Mentalist of Jane's ilk to see.

Unlike Jane's own dark past, Lisbon's tragedies had been through no fault of her own. A car accident had taken her mothers life too young, along with Lisbon's childhood, leaving her to care for a broken family and alcoholic father who emotionally abused her. She was the victim of life's cruel turn of events. But Jane-Jane was the fool, punished for his ego's self-indulgent need for notoriety. He'd taunted a serial killer on national television and lost his family for his arrogance.

Lisbon deserved happiness. She deserved to smile… _'She deserves to give them to someone better._'

And Jane deserved his vengeance.

"_Jane, you can not keep mocking Sergeant Stevens grooming habits every time we pass the front desk. He's just doing his job and besides, on a bad day he could snap you in half."_

_A small smirk played out across the Mentalists face, watching Lisbon try to fend him off while juggling an arm load of files and Chinese take-out unsuccessfully through the squad room. Jane quickly reached out and caught her Kung Pao Chicken before the bag hit the floor then propped open her office door so she could toss her files onto the closest open space. His cheshire grin only grew._

"_I simply stated that the Sergeant might reconsider his choice in aftershave." Jane's brows shot up matter of fact when Lisbon turned around to glare. "He is the first line of defense CBI has to the distressed minions and we wouldn't want Joe Public to have any reason to turn their nose up or away from our hallowed halls." _

"_He was just being helpful…" Lisbon began._

"_But only to you, my dear Lisbon. Only to you. Not even our lovely Grace merits his holding the records office door every time she comes through…"_

"_Come on." Lisbon scoffed. "He's just showing respect. I am in charge of the lead unit…"_

"_And you are a beautiful woman." It came out before Jane could put a flirty spin on his truthful words. He cursed the mistake. The way Lisbon had stopped mid action—mid breath and now staring at him, unsettled him far more than he cared to admit. His discomfort was not apart of this exercise. Not by a long shot. _

_Jane quickly regrouped._

"_Bothered by the attentions of a male co-worker, Agent Lisbon or just trying to cover up your feelings for…?" his voice smooth and suggestive with double_ _e__ntendre, aiming for a desired response. He didn't have to wait long…_

"_I don't give a rat's ass and you know that." Lisbon spat out and then growled for good measure. _

_Jane smiled brightly. He'd always appreciated Lisbon's resilience, and her willingness to let a moment pass between them. 'And she's positively beautiful when she's angry…'_

"_And Stevens is double my age, AND married." Lisbon continued. "It's just opening a door." She nodded to her own door indicating what Jane had just done for her moments earlier._

"_It's his tell." Jane casually replied._

"_Tell for what?" Lisbon tried to snatch her late lunch back from the mercurial blond but was denied due to his height and the distance he kept at the other side of her desk. _

"_His 'I-want-her-horizontal-and-naked-with-me' tell." Jane's voice dropped a devilish octave and then wagged his brow suggestively._

_Lisbon crossed her arms over her chest and glared, trying to fight off her own tell. The blush Jane once again elicited from her with such skill and unsettling ease. "You really are a sick sick man, Jane. Certifiable."_

"_As documented, my dear Lisbon. As documented." his voice cocksure and too cheery. _

_Jane gently placed Lisbon's lunch bag upon the files on her desk and stepped away. Another smile now replacing his last. It was the 'Jane smile', the one that glowed a million watts bright, but never reached his eyes. Not for the first time, Lisbon felt her heart hurt a little while he used it. She knew she had hit a sore spot—his time in the mental health asylum following his families murder at the hands of Red John. She was the only one he had trusted with that information, actually any information he allowed to be known of himself. But before she could say anything to retract or clarify what she had meant by the joke, Jane was already out the door and gone. However, she knew never far…_

_Jane had stayed just outside Lisbon's line of sight while she settled into her desk and began to start her lunch, once again a voyeur of his colleague actions. She'd affected him with her words although she had truly meant them in jest. A ploy to hide her own discomfort in the situation he had placed her. He understood, but his own reactions to her still unsettled him._

_His attention now turned back to the task at hand, Jane aloud a satisfied grin when Lisbon's hands cautiously stilled over her lunch and gave it a wary brow. The register slip was still stapled tight over the folded take-out bag. Not one tear or signs of tampering or booby trap. She seemed to have deemed her meal safe after escaping the trickster mentalist's skilled hands and decided to dig in._

"_What the…?" Instead of the fortune cookie that now took up a corner in Jane's coat pocket, Lisbon found a perfect orchid bloom placed upon her meal. And Jane had found his needed smile._

He thought of that smile now, it had been warm and wistful and to his surprise open. She hadn't peered suspiciously around her surroundings looking for him or shown any concern she'd been seen enjoying his gesture by the others of their team. He believed now, she had wanted him to see. That sharing these small moments, instead of stealing them from one another was what it had grown to be, between them. And it was that reason alone, that now clenched his chest with concern.

'_You have to stop.'_ Jane told himself, while settling into his couch at the center of the squad room. _'Nothing good can come of this.' _He closed his eyes to the late day sun and began to push away the image of her smile. '_It changes nothing. Someday she'll either have to arrest me or bury me.'_ he breathed in deep and let it out slow. _'Either way, Red John will be dead and I will have my revenge.' _

He allowed his body to rest and his mind attempt some semblance of sleep. He wasn't alone for long. Within the darkness of his closed lids another smile appeared, etched in blood.


	2. A Choice

**Disclaimer**: The Mentalist and its characters are not my own, sadly enough.

**Authors Note:** This is my second Mentalist fan fiction. I was late in the game when I started watching this show and have only seen a handful of full episodes and some clips from You Tube. I hope my first few spins inside these characters heads are not too far off the mark.

This piece is a bit dark and not as humorous as I would like it to be (I love Jane and Lisbon's back and forth's, team banter, and Jane being a clever and naughty Jane), but I have found that the darker side of Jane's personality has captured my interest too. Lord knows I love a tortured soul even if said soul believes he doesn't have one.

**This is nearly 2 years after Season 1 Finale. Red John is dead and this is one take I have of the event and Jane's reaction to it. I have a few ideas how it could play out and may write those as later one shots when I get a better feel for the main characters. This particular version is of the angsty sort, but with all one-shots contained here, there shall be a smile. **

_(AAAAAAND Simon Baker has green eyes. This came from the actor himself during a interview.)_

**Warning: **Small amount of profanity and suggested suicide. And angst…

**A Choice**

by Anne Pendragon

"_Lower the gun Jane."_ He still feels Lisbon's plea pushing in on his chest. _"Please…" _her voice had been steady—very much Lisbon, but her eyes had been so scared._ "Please Jane, choose life…"_

Patrick Jane continued his silent vigil over the lifeless body of the monster—no, the man who had taken away his world, very much all of his soul and tonight almost his life. Red John was dead. That one day had finally come where the meticulously clever killer hadn't been able to stay one step ahead of the Mentalist and his CBI colleagues and disappear into the ether. This was the day Red John, aka Jonathan Redgrave, met his end at the hand of justice…

"Jane." a not too distant voice called to him in the now. He heard her calling to him, but didn't–not really and not yet. Right now his focus was on replaying every moment, every second that linked himself and the dead man slumped under the paint chipped carousel horse before him. All he could hear now was the thumping of his heart in his hollowed chest and the uneven tune of piano music still warbling out of archaic fairground speakers somewhere in the distance. Rigsby had been sent to find the shut off what felt like hours ago, and had yet to find the source.

Jane closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. He could see every gutting, heart numbing moment that more than once took him to his knees and just outside of his sanity, starting with the discovery of his beloved families mutilated remains to the moment he didn't pull the trigger and Lisbon had.

'_And now he's dead.' _Jane's brows creased and his pale eyes opened once more.He couldn't get himself to react to this reality. Couldn't find the satisfaction he believed was rightfully due him for so long.

'_I should be dancing around on the bastard's un-dug grave right now. I should be relieved that the son of a bitch will never take another life...'_ Jane's spinning inner thoughts continued to fill in the uncharacteristic empty adrenaline had earlier forced on his brain, his mind re-acquiring the advanced tempo he was accustomed to and required, looking for an answer—a reason why…

'_I should feel—I should feel something?' _

But if anything he felt little-to-nothing. He only felt numb while his eyes and memory held onto the pooling image of vengeance—justice—slumped against the remains of a neglected merry-go-round but a yard away. He didn't even feel angry that he wasn't given the chance to 'gut' Red John as promised, or that it wasn't his hand that pulled the trigger of his enemies own gun. Nor was he disappointed that when it came down to it, he couldn't. He simply felt numb, numb and so very, very tired. Like a man who had been running for so long and had nothing left.

"Jane." Jane continued his stony stance over Red John's body, like a concrete angel over a grave, not moving, barely breathing with a disturbingly obdurate concentration on the body at his feet. Theresa Lisbon felt a chill fall down her spine at the analogy, shivering in the cool night air.

In between the paramedics tending to the slash wound in Jane's forearm—compliments of Red John, and giving statement of the nights events, the Mentalist had made little sign that he was indeed still alive and with her—them. Jane looked more lost than she had ever seen him and it was scaring her more and more with each moment that ticked by.

She'd seen this side of Jane before, where his consummate act and smiling mask fell away to reveal vacant eyes and a decimated and distant heart. She knew something was growing heavy inside her friend. Before tonight that thing would have been his unyielding thirst for vengeance, but now? Tonight Jane's thirst for vengeance had yielded—yielded for her, she hoped maybe for himself too. When Jane had lowered the gun and met her eyes, Lisbon saw something she still had no definition to describe. A face of Jane's she had never seen.

In the few short seconds following, Red John took the opportunity to strike out at them as attempt to escape, forcing Lisbon to end the killers life. Soon after, the rest of their team, half of CBI and a cavalcade of local Leo's were bearing down on the scene, leaving them no time to talk to one another or even breathe.

She had wanted to go to him earlier, stand at his side, even apologize for once again defying his wish for brutal justice via suicide mission, but she'd been held back—not just by her CBI responsibilities or having to give statement, but by the fear and hesitancy in her own heart. Did he hate her for being the one to kill his enemy, for taking vengeance away from him? Did he hate himself still or did Patrick Jane wish for a new beginning after Red John's end? Would he be leaving CBI—would he be leaving her?

Not once had Lisbon ever heard Jane say what he wanted of this life, aside from his couch, a cup of tea and Red John's demise at his own hands. He'd never spoken of a future or led anyone to believe he saw one for himself. Remembering that fact tonight along with the look he now wore, was weighing in on Theresa Lisbon's gut.

Brushing past, the medical examiner finally arrived to claim the body, stirring Jane from his trance long enough for his eyes to look up and meet Lisbon's across the dusty fairway. That indefinable cryptic look had returned to his face. He wasn't trying to hide away—it wasn't a mask, but he also wasn't letting her in. She stepped forward towards him and for a brief moment she saw the corner of his mouth flicker in an attempt at a wistful grin…

"Agent Lisbon."

Theresa turned into the clip board being shoved under her nose for yet another signature and when she was able to turn back to Jane, he was gone.

"Cho, have you seen Jane? He was just here." Cho must have heard the rising panic in his boss's voice, for he too started to look around the old fairground in an alert manor.

"Do you want me to get Rigsby back here and Van Pelt? We can go look for him?"

Lisbon continued to look around the shadows of the dully lit scene and noted Jane's Citroen gone from the grounds. "No, you guys make sure our scene gets finished up right, I'll go look for him."

Cho nodded slowly, an underlying understanding beamed from behind his stoic professional gaze. "Alright, Boss. We'll keep you apprised if anything comes up. You do the same."

Agent Lisbon nodded silently to her senior officer and friend, before running to her SUV.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Patrick Jane stepped through the vacant living space that no longer held any life within it. His house is where Red John had wanted to finish their game. Jane believed his nemesis believed in coming full circle, to finish where it all began, but Jane had figured Red Johns end game and instead ended the cat and mouse in the vacated fairgrounds only a few blocks away, where the serial killer had made his chillingly close base of operations.

Jane stopped at the center of the living room and looked to the stairs. Pulling out the neglected knife he'd bought to gut Red John from its sheath, he closed his eyes and breathed in deep.

His mind had come to a conclusion tonight, while staring down the remains of who-what he had believed kept him alive all these years. He now understood. He had a task to finish in this house. Only one thing made sense to him and it was something that had been due since the evening he found that note and opened the door.

"Just one more thing left to be done here…" his voice caught in his throat.

Step by step, Patrick Jane ascended the steps to look his enemy in the eye one last time.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Damn it, Jane!" Lisbon drove one handed and fast towards the one place she knew Jane would be drawn to after tonight's events. She may not have had his intuitiveness, but she knew Jane and tonight she could not let him be alone in the place Red John had helped him make. "Come on Jane. Pick up!" the fear and frustration rising in her voice.

Lisbon clicked closed her phone and took a corner at a speed Jane would have envied. Pulling up Jane's street and into his drive, she parked beside his car and ran to his front door. Before she could knock or even break the door down, she notice it not completely closed. Quickly entering, she swept through the living room and nearly made it to the stairs, when she noticed the fairly large knife sheath lying on the side table along with Jane's car keys.

"Jaaaane!" she screamed, while running up the steps two at a time. She received no answer.

"Thump" a heavy noise wacked the floor above her, sending her heart and feet faster towards the door at the end of the hall.

"O, God no. Jane…" she cried. Throwing open the cracked door, her mind already racing to a worst case scenario she knew she'd never be able to live with, played out by the man she didn't want to live without, but was met by the one image she hadn't figured on. "Jane…?"

Two sets of startled green eyes met. She could see he had been crying; silent tears still fell as he lowered his weapon of choice to his side—a paint brush. Out of the corner of Lisbon's eye, an opened and overturned paint bucket rolled past then stopped beside a neglected and now paint covered knife Jane must have used to open the can.

Lisbon briefly tore her gaze from Jane's long suffering expression and looked to the wall behind him, half a blood etched smiley glared from behind a violently applied layer of white paint. The same paint flecked across Jane's face, hair and all over his rolled up shirtsleeves and vest.

"I-I needed to..." Catching on his own words, Jane motioned his brush limply towards the nightmarish symbol behind him. Lisbon watched his lips tremble and jaw clench as more tears continued down his angelic features. "I want to feel again, Theresa. I want to live…"

A silent sob racked his body and then one not so silent—loud and deep. Lisbon rushed to him, rapping her arms around his tensed form. Soon she heard the paint brush clack to the hardwood and then felt his body give, taking him to his knees. Before she could react, his arms roughly encircle her waist and pulled her to him, burying his head into her stomach. And then he began to shake.

"Let it all out, Jane. Let it go." She whispered into the top of his head, running her hands over his back and through his thick curls while he continued to poor out seven years of pain and sorrow in her embrace. "I'm right here…"

"I know." She heard his muffled words. "That's why I stayed."

Lisbon cried for Jane's loss that night, she cried for his pain and although his sobs tore through her very core, she cried with happiness. For the tears he'd held at bay all those years and the ghoulish smile now half obscured, were coming down tonight and Lisbon could only feel hope for the man she held in her arms and heart.


	3. A Admission

**Disclaimer**: The Mentalist and its characters are not my own, sadly enough.

**Authors Note:** This one shot started feeling like a multi-chapter while I wrote it. This was not my aim, although my fan fic addicted side is considering it.

This bit takes place about a year after Season 1 finale. Lisbon and Jane have gotten closer to one another, but not yet snuggly close. Still trust issues, mostly on her side. And Jane has begun to admit what having Lisbon in his life means to him, how she has made changes in him and what he might be able to give up to get what he really wants—her trust.

In writing this bit, I took pieces from a couple You Tube clips (episodes I have yet to see) and incorporated them. A funny looking scarecrow scene and Jane/Lisbon running through the rain to her SUV. I guess my mind was picnicking in the country when I wrote this moment. Hope you enjoy.

**Warning: **Very small amount of profanity.

**An Admission**

by Ann Pendragon

"Lisbon, your arm?" Jane raised his hand to the agents torn jacket elbow and was rewarded with his hands being slapped away.

"I'm fine." The agent turned up her skinned elbow to get a better look at what damage running, jumping and sliding out of shotgun range caused and grimaced. Even if she wanted someone to look at it, the paramedics had already left with the bodies, the local Leo's and her people not that far behind. She'd just come back into the barn to retrieve her wandering consultant so they too could get back to town and then home.

"Your fine?" the mentalist eyed the stoic woman knowingly.

"Yeah, peachy." Lisbon shot back "Crazed rodeo clowns and their homicidal mothers shoot at me, then try to run me over with their motor homes all the time."

Lisbon's trademark sarcasm had reached new heights during this last case, as was her body count, but she wasn't going to think about that now or the fact she once again came close to loosing her death wish inflicted consultant. She just wanted to finish this day before the next storm came through cow country, get her team and the bodies back to CBI and then file the paperwork—the mountain of paperwork—under the X-File's section in Cases.

"I mean it, Lisbon. You refused the paramedics care, so at least let me look…" Lisbon abruptly turned on Jane, silencing him briefly with a dagger stare. If he didn't look so honestly concerned and well—struck by the day's events, she may have made him into a permanent scarecrow and left him in the farms corn field. Jane was once again the reason why she had the paperwork and the body count. Well, maybe not the body count. It was just easier to blame him than feel frightened for him right then.

"Look Jane, I'm fine. Case is closed, you solved your little puzzle although you don't seem as pleased by this, and I saved your ass so now we can all go back to civilization and you can go back to your perch on the couch..." she began to walk back out of the barn.

"But the case isn't closed. Some bad people are dead, but not the one we want. And you are injured…" Jane interrupted, bringing Lisbon to an immediate halt.

"I am fine…DAMNIT JANE!" Lisbon screamed, un-roosting a chicken somewhere in the old shadowy barn. What the hell wasn't he telling her? The wrong bad guys? "What are you telling me here, that this isn't done? I just called Minnelli telling him we had the perps and now you're telling me we don't?"

"I'm telling you we need to stay here tonight, it's going to storm anyways and we have a Bed and Breakfast at our disposal." Lisbon waited for a sexual come on to follow but it didn't come. "We'll send Cho and Rigsby to watch his home. Grace is already in town with the bodies." Jane continued. "Tomorrow we'll go back into town and catch the right bad guy while he's in the act."

"It's Reese isn't it? I knew that guy smiled too much." Jane pretended not to hear her direct barb. "I could also call Cho and Rigsby and just have them pick him up in town right now."

"You won't and this is why" Jane began "We have nothing on him right now. But as we speak, word is getting around Little Podunk that we've made our collar and that is good. Reese is feeling more at ease now, enough at ease to finish his last job tomorrow at precisely 4 p.m. at Telsons Bank and Trust, when the Rodeo begins and the town is preoccupied with flying cowboys and bull dung."

"4 p.m.?" Lisbon eyed her consultant quizzically.

"Trust me, dear Lisbon. 4 p.m." his voice a certain and smooth cadence.

"Trust you!?" Lisbon scoffed and this time Jane could not help but feel a painful twinge in his gut.

"I know you've trusted me, even when you say you don't." his finger rose between them. "And you do because you believe in me." Jane reasoned, although to him he felt like he was trying to plead his case.

"I believe in our solve rate…" Lisbon spat. She was still angry and too distracted by that anger to see the warning signs of an 'irked' Jane.

"No-no, for all the facts and regulations you prescribe to, you—Agent Lisbon, do not trust without belief in the thing or person you have put your trust. At least give me that, Theresa." Jane let loose her given name without thought or care that she'd make him pay later for its use. He was quickly becoming too caught up in a too familiar feeling he'd come to equate with the petite brunette before him—frustration. If anything, he was tired of her lying to him about something he'd grudgingly allowed to become so important to his life. Her trust in him. "You've believed in me—you care…"

"Stop it!" Theresa screamed and moved away. "You don't get to do this with me. Not now. You don't get to mess around with my emotions and make me feel this way. You don't get the chance to hurt me…"

He watched Lisbon's eyes round, acknowledging her slip. Jane already knew what she feared of him although he hadn't expected her to tell him so clearly or so loud_. 'I've gotten to her more than I thought…' _To Lisbon, Jane was her father, the eventuality of him hurting her in his quest for things not good for him certain in her mind. What had been dangerous for her and salvation for him was that she still held on to the hope of fixing him. What she didn't know, she had already begun to do just that.

"I don't want a chance to hurt you." His voice gentler but no less determined. "I told you I would always be there for you and I've stayed true to my word." Now was not the time to draw parallels between himself and her father. And he knew there was no need to remind her of Sheriff Hardy or any instances during the last year, where he'd proven himself and his word to her and the team. He knew Lisbon had grown to trust him with her life, she just didn't trust herself enough yet to admit it. "I'm not going to hurt…"

"Stop it, Jane. You of all people can't make statements like that?" Lisbon yelled. "It's what you do." He was getting too damn close. How did this conversation get so out of control?

"You toy with people—a 'means to an end' you've said and proven more than once. You make them trust you, let you into their lives—their heart, and then you take what you need and go…"

"Need?" Jane's words rented the air, sounding angrier than he had wanted, but damn it he was angry. _'Damned stubborn frustrating woman…'_ "I **need** you."

Eyes widened circles of disbelief; Lisbon began to back away from Jane. His words-everything about this moment was frightening her. Warning bells clanged out in her head telling her what her heart had desired for so long would break it, so back away—run.

"No." She began. "No, you can't. You don't and even if you did it's just for now…"

Jane crossed the increasing distance between them and grabbed for her shoulders only to have her struggle in his grasp. Bringing nimble fingers around her wrists in a strength that took Lisbon off guard, he held her in front of him, bringing his eyes down into her startled glare. He'd half expected her to knee him in the groin and kept waiting for the impact.

"I need you. I'm not going anywhere because I need you in my life. Because if your not…" his words faltered. "If your not I don't have a life. I don't…I just don't…" his voice still angry with a layer of desperate bleeding through.

Lisbon didn't have a voice, let alone words as she stared, caught in the intensity that was Patrick Jane. Was this desperation coming from him? Jane didn't beg. Was it truth?

"Each day you're in my life, I feel myself breathe in a little deeper and not feel guilty for drawing in air. You do that. You give me that. You and this job…" his voice trailed off a moment with a chuckle that held no mirth and Lisbon could feel him tremble from his grasp on her. She was still too shocked to struggle in it.

"You are right, everything has been a means to an end for me most of my life. Not even loosing my family to my own arrogance and Red John, made that any different. But you've changed that—changed me. You make me believe I can be better, do better." A brief light danced in Jane's eyes. "Being the smartest man in the room isn't always better than being the better man."

Lisbon could only continue to be overwhelmed by the sight and sound of pure honesty coming from the man before her. She could only be cautious of how it was all making her feel for that man.

"I want you to believe me—trust that I will do anything; give anything to do right by you." His eyes had begun to shine. "Because as you well know I am a determined man and do not take such challenges lightly." A self depreciating smirk flit across his features.

"I will not give up on this so easily, Lisbon. Even if you string me up in the cornfield tonight in the middle of a lightning storm or arrest me for manhandling an officer and disturbing the peace, I will be back at your feet tomorrow with every determination to make you believe."

Jane felt phantom hope when Lisbon's lips twitched slightly at 'scarecrow'. He knew it had been a consideration most of the day.

"Lisbon?"

She struggled once more in his iron grip. He let her go. Jane didn't want his quest to not hurt her begin with bruised wrists.

And then Theresa phone rang out between them. Jane watched Theresa become Lisbon once more, with the flick of her phone.

"Lisbon." She cleared her throat, her eyes still being held by Jane in a clinging grip. "No, we're fine at the farm. I know the storm is coming in pretty bad. The wind is picking up here too. I want you to turn back to town. Jane thinks we're not done yet." Her eyes finally turned away to the straw strewn floor. "I want you and Cho to watch Joe Reese's house, make sure he doesn't go anywhere without you seeing him. Keep your distance for now. Jane and I will be back in town tomorrow morning to explain." She solidly kept her eyes from Jane's and turned her back on him. "Update Grace at the hospital morgue and tell her I want Reese's bank transactions from the last six months sent to my laptop ASAP. Update me if Reese goes anywhere tonight." Lisbon threw out her orders with practiced ease. "Good. Be careful." she snapped her phone closed, but did not turn back to Jane.

"We'll play this out tomorrow Jane." She was trying so hard to hold onto her sense of civility and professionalism. She had to stay Lisbon right now, because Theresa didn't have a chance in hell holding it together tonight, alone in a house with Jane. "Let's go find some rooms and get some rest…"

"Theresa…"

"No, I can't do this right now. And its Lisbon, we have a job…"

"Theresa, please tell me you believe in me and not just with this case."

Theresa stopped in the door and lowered her head to her chest, not trusting herself to look back at Jane. But there was something she needed to know from him and she never felt more drawn than right now to ask it…

"Would you give me Red John?" her voice steady and firm. "Would you leave him to justice?"

An uneasy silence filled the barn to its rafters. Lisbon swallowed hard on her disappointment.

"That's what I thought…" her heart broken, she began to walk away. Why should she be surprised? Vendetta and obsession always won out over her, when it came to the men in her life.

"Yes."

She almost didn't hear his gentled voice. A whisper filled with honest conviction. She hadn't wanted to turn around but now she had to, she had to be sure Jane hadn't found yet another mask to wear over his true intent. That this wish he was granting her wasn't a trick. Turning to meet his pale green eyes she found none—she found only Jane.

"I believe you." She could immediately see the affect of her words on him, a wide hopeful grin had begun to spread over his features and light his eyes like the sun. She could feel the warmth in those eyes reach out to her and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the whipping winds pushing through her clothing and hair.

"And I care about you too." As annoying as it was, she knew he already knew—had for a long time. _'Damned Mentalist'_

"What other man gifts me Shetland ponies and paper frogs?" And then she gave him her smile, warm but brief. It was her continued gift to him, for she knew he didn't know she knew what her smile did to him.

Jane didn't try to stop her from leaving the barn this time. He watched her sprint across the barnyard just as the rain began to fall, finding her way inside the old B&B. A wistful grin caressed his lips. A shimmering gleam lit his eyes. Belief wasn't admitting her trust, but it would do…for now. _'And she told me she cares.'_

Pulling his attention from the lights coming on in the old house, Jane stepped to the edge of the barns protection, the winds dancing the curls around his head like a blond halo. Looking up into the darkened sky, Jane could only smile into the coming storm.


	4. A Admission and A Change

**Disclaimer**: The Mentalist and its characters are not my own, sadly enough.

**Authors Note:** This is the companion to the one shot before it, "An Admission". I guess my muse wanted just a little more time with Jane and Lisbon in this particular moment.

**Warning: **Bit of angst and might be OOC??? I can only guess at how the two of them would be with one another at the start of a pre-relationship relationship. I think cautious and kind. They both have trust issues of their own and they have already shown kind behavior towards one another on the show.

A couple curses and un-beta read, so we gots mystaks hre...

**An Admission and A Change**

by Ann Pendragon

…_Jane didn't try to stop her from leaving the barn this time. He watched her sprint across the barnyard just as the rain began to fall, finding her way inside the old B&B. A wistful grin caressed his lips. A shimmering gleam lit his eyes. Belief wasn't admitting her trust, but it would do…for now. 'And she told me she cares.' _

_Pulling his attention from the lights coming on in the old house, Jane stepped to the edge of the barns protection, the winds dancing the curls around his head like a blond halo. Looking up into the darkened sky, Jane could only smile into the coming storm… _



Lisbon laid her hands flat on the island within the dimly lit kitchen of Mercy Mae's B&B. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally. It **had** been one hell of a day. Closing her eyes she bowed her head.

'_I almost got killed—again. Jane almost got himself killed—again. I had to shoot two people in order to protect myself and Jane—again. And they're not even the perpetrators of the original crime which brought us to this place…'_ Lisbon leaned down, placing her forehead on the back of her hands on the counter _'And then Jane. He needs me? He told me he'd give me Red John? He needs me…?' _

The squeak of the kitchens screen door pulled her from her swirling thoughts and a hand to her emptied gun holster. She cursed herself for forgetting Cho had to take it after her shoot out with the Smiths.

"Lisbon, it's me." One hand raised in caution, Jane stood on the other side of the screen, his person drenched in rain. She wondered how long he'd been standing there watching her. Knowing Jane—a while.

She turned from him as he entered the kitchen, the screen door smacking its frame. Quickly she began to school her thoughts, placing them back down deep within herself where he'd have difficulty finding them easily.

Lisbon stiffened when he walked close behind her, and out of the corner of her eye she watched him place the first aid kit from the SUV on the small kitchen table before opening the refrigerator door.

"What are you doing?" he placed a bottle of Coke in front of her along with three Advil to swallow for the pain and then began to peel away his drenched jacket and vest.

"You are going to sit and I'm going to tend to your arm." He nodded a sopping head at the kitchen chair, while he rolled up his shirt sleeves. "I have been instructed in basic First Aid and CPR, as you well know a requirement when joining the ranks of the lovely CBI." Jane smiled brightly at his mutinous would-be patient although he felt none too happy that there was a reason he had to use said skill, or at least on someone else other than himself. "It will be easier if you let me, Teresa. Do you want infection to set in, because you could not see the wound well enough to clean it thoroughly?"

Eye to eye, a moment of silence passed between them, ending when Lisbon grudgingly snatched the soda, took the pills and plopped down at the small kitchen table beside them with a mutinous glare.

Jane's smile grew Cheshire with this small victory in the war of trust. Although Lisbon's resistance and hesitance to be cared for could probably be felt radiating into the next county, he was pleased she was letting him help her. He could say that he felt like the lion tamer who'd gotten his feline to not lower its jaws upon his head once placed in its mouth. It was that variety of pleased. _'And she let me call her Teresa'_.

"Come on now. Let's get that jacket off so we can see your boo-boo."

"I'm not three." Lisbon scowled darkly at her way too pleased version of a bastardized Florence Nightingale. But with a grimace, she peeled off her jacket; before Jane could assist, then began to struggle with the button down she wore over her tank top.

"Please, allow me." Jane wasn't asking, and frankly she was too tired and achy to fight the steady hands that gently pulled the fabric over her shoulders and down her arms with expert ease. She'd be lying if she said that the feel of those sure yet careful hands didn't do things—warm tingling things, to her insides.

He knew he was making her uncomfortable, he felt the shiver come off her body and cause one within his own. He knew what he told her earlier in the barn had relieved her, knowing he trusted her enough to allow her in—to give her Red John, but also scared her all within the same breath. She was scared of letting him in and having him hurt her. But by the same token, he was scared too. He hadn't expected-hadn't planned on letting this small, caring, cautious spitfire of a woman this far into his own life, to give her **his** trust. He hadn't meant for her to mean more to him than a means to an end. Hadn't meant to have his views-his plans altered or let his heart be on its way to healed…

Jane's hand stilled over the supplies on the table and clenched, before picking up the antiseptic and bending down on one knee beside her. He felt her flinch when he brought the gauze to her arm without even making contact. His hands stilled again and his brows drew down.

"Please, Teresa. Let me…" his voice a tired plea.

Lisbon quickly met Jane's pale eyes, staring out at her from under rain drenched bangs. It wasn't his words but the tone of his voice that stirred her. He was begging?

For a brief moment Lisbon could have smiled at the thought, but didn't. Patrick Jane did not beg for anything. He tricked, he demanded or he just did as he damned well pleased. Aside from Red John's head on a stake, she'd never known Jane to want anything enough to beg for it. And then it became clear. Jane **did** need her. He needed this—her trust. She meant that much to him.

Lisbon held Jane's eyes and then gently nodded her head. She would grant him what he asked of her. She would trust him and not just with the care of her arm.

Immediately a beautiful expression lit Jane's features with a gentle childlike glow. She could only feel struck by how her acquiescence affected him. Her own body rushed with a warmth as she fought the need to look away from the intimate intensity that radiated from within Jane. He understood the chance he was being given and looked at her now like she had just bestowed upon him a beloved gift. In a way she had.

Both held the others eyes for another moment, till Lisbon turned away and Jane began his care of her arm once more.

"Besides, we wouldn't want this nasty scrape to become an unsightly blemish on that alabaster skin of yours, would we?" Jane teased to break the silence. A barely contained smile still lit his face. "You are by far the palest Californian I have yet to meet. I know this lovely bit of beach where you could…"

"Just shut it and fix it Jane." Lisbon shook her head and closed her eyes. She knew what he was doing, bringing an uneasy moment back to their own personal brand of good. She'd take it. And besides, his 'annoyingness' kept her mind off the sting of the antiseptic and her mind time to think of what had just transpired between them.

"As you wish, dear Lisbon." A light smirk continued to grace his features while he finished cleaning out her wound and began to apply a thick dollop of antibiotic cream. He was still happy beyond what words could express, and hopeful—a feeling that had been elusive to Jane for a very long long time. But his mind was already traveling down other paths that needed to be followed before the night ended and tomorrow was to begin anew.

"The Smiths gave you no other choice." His words broke the silence and he felt her body tense under his touch once more. "I do hope you see that."

"Never makes it easier." She finally admitted aloud. In that moment lightning struck, making the normally stoic agent flinch. Jane frowned while he began to wrap Lisbon's arm, taking care to gently stroke the inside of her wrist while wrapping the bandage firmly.

"I know you hate doing it—taking a life. The fact that feeling is instinctual and not obligatory to you makes you the better cop—better person I think." Lisbon quietly took in his honest compliment, never comfortable taking in any compliment or kind word given her way. She could not help but hear a hint of admiration in his voice.

"I know you hated taking a life, too." This time it was Jane who momentarily tensed, but only for a moment before finishing the dressing on her arm. A day hadn't gone past when he didn't think of the night he'd pulled the trigger, and killed Sheriff Hardy. And Lisbon was right, he didn't like doing it, but he didn't regret it either.

Jane's hand slid from Lisbon's wrist and began to hold the hand in her lap, the warmth of it in his grasp giving him comfort and as always, strength. No-no regrets. Not when he still had her here with him.

Lisbon watched Jane take her hand in his own. And when his grip tightened, she felt her breath catch. Just the slightest touch from him was beginning to feel like the biggest leap into the unknown. So many voices of reason and experience told her to take her hand away, but so much of what she needed—what she knew he needed, was allowing his fingers to entwine with her own and hold tight. She simply needed to trust…

"I told you Teresa. I told you I'd always be there for you, no matter what…" Jane raised her hand in both of his and then brought her knuckles to his lips.

Lisbon closed her eyes at the warm press of his lips to her skin and opened them when he kept her hand against those lips. Their eyes met.

"Jane?" her voice a whisper, nearly drown out by the pounding rain coming down outside the kitchen's screen door. She watched him close his eyes and could feel his lips press harder into her hand and then curve into a smile upon her skin.

Teresa Lisbon had never felt so drawn to someone, as she was this odd, endearing, brilliant, and often arrogant man. When she allowed herself to think of such things, she'd admit Jane was handsome. Of course it was no secret to the rest of the world; Patrick Jane had a quality about him. But to Lisbon, it was something more—something ethereal she found in the lines of his face. Maybe it was in those hard earned lines she found what was beautiful about him. Patrick Jane, the once gilded showman who was striped of his glitter only find the brightest part of him was what came from within.

Slowly, carefully Lisbon raised her other hand to the side of Jane's face and brushed her fingers over his laugh lines then down to his lightly stubbled jaw. Jane gathered that hand too and then kissed it with the same reverence and care he'd given the other. Lisbon quickly stifled a sob.

Jane watched Lisbon's eyes glisten in the light of the dimly lit kitchen and could not deny he felt a similar need to let his emotions go. They had become so much in this moment, more than his calculating mind had expected, and it filled his heart in the places he'd left abandoned long ago. They had made a start—a leap ahead really. He could see it in her warm and open eyes and feel it in his own awakening heart, but this was as far as either of them would go—could go, tonight. All good things in their time…

"Now, I'm thinking we need to eat before we turn in, don't you?" Jane gently lowered her hands back into her lap and rose to his feet. Lisbon watched a large 'Jane' smile quickly spread under his still gleaming eyes. She returned his smile, understanding this moment between them was now past. But she also knew how permanent the changes it had left on both of them.

"Bandage me up and cook for me too." She favored him with a half smirk and received a mega watt smile in return. "And all of you call me a mother hen." His smile became brighter if it was possible as he turned away and back to the fridge to check on the B&B's provisions. "And how about toweling dry that mop of yours. I don't want to have to ask Minnelli for another consultant, just because mine caught the sniffles."

"Woman, you are bossy." But he smiled, catching the folded dish towel she tossed at his head just the same. "And you can't replace me. I am uncannily irreplaceable—the finest of my trade…" he announced proudly with the towel and a skillet now in hand.

"Best at being a pain in my ass." Lisbon mumbled just loud enough for him to hear, while he started the stove. He flashed her another bright smile over his shoulder, enjoying the moment. Then again, so was she.

While some things changed, others did not. And that was good.


	5. An Understanding

**Disclaimer**: The Mentalist and its characters are not my own, sadly enough.

**Authors Note:** I know that there are many hospital bedside stories out there. I had the itch to write one of my own. This scene is set several months after Jane shoots Sheriff Hardy in the season finale. I hope you enjoy.

**Warning:** un-beta read, so we gots mystaks hre...

**An Understanding**

by Anne Pendragon

He didn't want her here, but she was. By the way her body was curled up in the rigid hospital chair at his beside and the depth of her sleep, she's been there a while.

'_Stubborn insufferable woman.'_ Patrick Jane grumbled as he fought off the remainder of his drug induced sleep. He could already feel the pain creeping in.

Today, Agent Teresa Lisbon had once again placed herself in the line of fire to protect him, or at least she had tried. The perpetrator had been yet another ghost from Jane's past—another person he'd damaged during his charlatans career. Jane had sincerely no hard feelings towards the ex-client, while the man was threatening to shoot him dead that morning in the hot California sun. Hell, it had been a beautiful morning, not a bad day for dying really. And he deserved it—deserved worse. Although he would have liked to have lived long enough to find and destroy Red John, he'd accepted his penance by way of bullet. But then Lisbon…

She'd gotten in the mix, made a play for the gun. And just when Jane's angry ex-client was about to shoot her for it, Jane was given no choice—he jumped in the way. He'd gotten shot just like he had expected, just not fatally.

It wasn't till now did he realize that it had been more important to him to take the bullet in order to keep Lisbon safe than it was to take a bullet in the name of his own off-putting idea of repentance. Again, the strong drive to protect her above his own morbid agendas won out over his actions, first Hardy and now today. That fact was what weighed heavily on his mind now.

If something had happened to her—if it had been Lisbon lying here in this hospital bed or in the morgue because of something he had done? Well, that he could not have lived with or lived with for long and the perp defiantly would not have lived long enough for handcuffs.

Steering his mind from morbid thoughts, Jane surveyed the damage to his right thigh, where the bullet had gone in and then out, leaving a bit of a mess along the way. _'Damn…'_ he grimaced in pain when he tried to move his leg to the edge of his bed. He wasn't going to AMA anytime soon or at least with ease.

Anxious and annoyed at his immobility, he pushed himself up to the head of the bed and looked for the time. 7 p.m. read the clock on the wall, but the rain storm that snuck in while he was unconscious, made it look like midnight outside his open blinds. Only the puny bit of light emanating from his bed side monitors and the far off parking lot brought any light to the room. That and the reflected light he was now drawn to, glowing from the fair column of Lisbon's arched neck and turned cheek. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he closed his eyes and then re-opened them.

He didn't want her to be here…

Even if he wasn't a captive audience, Jane would have been powerless to turn away from the view he had been given. With no small amount of guilt, he began to trace those lines of light up the smooth skin of her neck, over her cheek and to the subtle pout of her lips parted in sleep, and then lingered there. And when her head turned further into the chair, exposing more delicate skin for his perusal, he felt that familiar pull inside his chest and then much lower. His pulse sped up with the feelings this small complicated woman had come to evoke in him without his permission or her knowledge. Jane's eyes did not waver in their exacting labor of lust. This was how he held her, the only way he allowed himself to, with his eyes.

There had been a time when he would have seen 'stealing' these views of the beautiful agent as just a selfish pleasure. A man simply enjoying the moments and movements of a desirable woman the way other men enjoyed a one night stand or fling. It was all the sexual pleasure his necrotic heart and guilt ridden mind allowed for. Her smell, her every movement, every motivation, every sound—he caught them all, a student of all things Teresa Lisbon.

So he teased her to elicit those reactions that pleased him and then over time he found himself tricking her into moments that pleased them both. It was then he knew she was no longer just a pleasurable view or a resource to catch Red John, but a friend for whom he cared and cared for him. And it wasn't till she'd begun to reciprocate with her own teases and did the unthinkable—learned him; did he understand that there was nothing simple or safe about their stolen moments any longer.

'_Ah, my dear Lisbon. I shouldn't have let you so far in._' Jane closed his eyes and denied himself his pleasant view.

She cared for him too much; it had become too painfully clear. Long before now, he would have chalked up that care to her need to fix him or any other lost man who could take the place of a father she had failed to save from his own self destructive ways. Her father had the bottle, Jane his vengeance. But that was not all the reason for what he believed was her misplaced care. Jane knew he was more than a responsibility to her. She felt for him more than just a colleague or friend, it was all in those beautiful, tell-tale and transparent eyes.

He didn't want her to save him—fix him. But he'd found that by letting her stay at the outer edges of his life, her presence filled a selfish need in him. It was irony at its greatest, really. She had become what kept him sane while he pursued his insanity. Hell, he even knew that what he strove for was self destructive and insane. Patrick Jane may be a self loathing, arrogant, often caustic insomniac with a death wish, no regard for rules or authority and a fetish for pissing people off—but he wasn't so completely off his nut not to see the dark waters he swam in.

Lisbon gave Jane's ghost of a life some semblance of normal, or at least an odd version of it that drew him to her like a moth to flame. She bit back when he pushed and taunted him in return. She bitched him out and made him accountable for his mistakes. She rained him in. She challenged his mind—made him feel like the transparent one when those compassionate green eyes of hers searched him out under his many masks. And every time they were hit by another phantom from his past, she didn't blink an eye or say I told you so. Nor did she judge. She simply stood at his side.

Teresa Lisbon, the team, the job made him feel real and dare he say good. Within the ranks of the CBI, he found a use for the skills he'd once used so selfishly and destructively. But that good he did, didn't make him any more deserving of salvation or even forgiveness of the things he'd done or the man he had been, it just made him feel closer to even. If he could do more good while doing the least amount of harm in the time he had before finding and killing Red John, then so be it.

But there was one thing that Teresa Lisbon offered him that he could not accept and that was a second chance. Not at the expense of her safety and happiness and she was likely to loose both if he continued to allow her deeper into his life.

"Mmft." a soft noise came from the subject of his hard musings. Showing signs of waking, Lisbon's breathing had changed and her body had begun to move uncomfortably in the confines of the metal and plastic chair.

"You saved my life again." His words came out more like an accusation than a thank you, from his thinly drawn lips.

Teresa Lisbon rolled her eyes at her already contrary consultant and then yawned. "Yeah, and you saved mine again and got your stupid self shot in the process. I'd say we are even…"

"You need to stop." The usual smooth cadence of his voice was replaced by something heavy and hard. It was enough to pull Lisbon's complete attention to the unwavering stare of her friend.

Placing her elbows upon her knees, Lisbon wearily eyed the pale and disgruntled looking blond. "What do you mean stop, Jane?" she rose from the chair and came to his bedside. "Is this more of your self indulgent feeling sorry for yourself self sacrificial crap? If it is I'm not hearing it tonight." Lisbon stood, glaring heavily at Jane, like he was a stubborn child who kept refusing his lessons. She sighed in disgust, pulling away from his bed and towards the open door. "Glad your okay, Jane. I'll go tell the team you're up. They've been worried."

A flicker of something—a combination of desperation and frustration maybe, flickered in Jane's tired gaze_. 'I didn't want her to be here. I don't need her here. I don't need her to find Red John…'_

"If you will not see the futility of your actions Lisbon, I'll have to find a place for myself elsewhere…"

He watched her stop at the door, her back rigid. For a moment he thought she would just leave. Maybe she'd tell him to "go to hell" or "go ahead" and then return tomorrow only to act as if they hadn't had this conversation for the umpteenth time. Instead she reached for the door handle and then quietly closed it the rest of the way. When she turned and met his eyes, he felt like he was being placed in front of a gun sight a second time today and all he could do was wait for the pull of the trigger.

"So you'll leave the CBI then? Give up your best chance at Red John?" her voice even, but utterly incensed. "Because that's what you'd have to do if you leave us-our team. No one else will work with you, Jane. Lord knows why I try."

She wasn't fooling anyone. They both knew why she tried. The answer hung in the silence between them now, as clear as it did any given day they stood in the same breathing space. She cared about him and Teresa Lisbon didn't give up on people she cared for, even when the battle was hopeless. Jane was realizing too late he was hopeless in stopping her.

The two kept there angry stare off, but they both already knew who'd won tonight's go around. Maybe he'd blame his pain meds for his lack of willpower and wit tonight, but she'd called his bluff once more. He'd chosen life the last time and this time he wasn't going to leave. He had too many reasons he needed to stay and maybe most of them were selfish, but to his growing surprise catching Red John had become the least of those reasons.

Jane was the first to look away.

"I told you I'm not to be fixed." his voice a weak, stubborn whisper. Frowning, he began to bother the loose string at the corner of his bed sheet between his fingers. A long silence fell between the pair.

"I'm not trying to fix you. I'm just not giving up." The anger in her voice had dropped away, leaving the damnedable care that was always so hard to hear when she directed it at him. Jane felt one of his dusty heart strings begin to pull. "And besides, you promised Jane—you promised to be here for me no matter what. I'm just returning the favor."

Jane's eyes shot up and found himself being the one held within the warm embrace of someone's stare. He watched her eyes widen and then blur much like his own had already. Neither said anything more—neither had something they could say that wouldn't further blur the lines between them tonight. Neither had the strength right then for anything more than this understanding they had found.

Jane gently nodded his head, his features set in an expression he made no attempt to manipulate or mask. Lisbon took in a deep breath and offered him a diminutive smile. It was a smile that made him want to keep his promise to her. Slowly she backed away and to the door, opening it and then was gone.

'_I didn't want her here…'_ Jane's hand rose to his chest and his eyes settled on the darkness and shadows outside his window. He took in a deep breath, exhaling in defeat. _'But I need her to be.'_


	6. Faire L’Amour

**Disclaimer**: The Mentalist and its characters are not my own, sadly enough.

**Authors Note:** This one-shot is a far jump ahead in the lives of Jane and Lisbon. I felt the need to finally stretch my "M" muscles with these two and also have a bit of fun with the rest of the team. I hope you enjoy.

**Warning:** M rating. Curse words. Adult themes and sexual situation. And of course un-beta read, so we gots mystaks hre...

Faire L'Amour

by Ann Pendragon

A slight breeze brushed over the wide and sweeping hills of the vineyard, rustling the leaves as it went. The same breeze pushed through the winery's back gates and over the gardens that surrounded the old and stately home that sat at the center of the estate, pushing through the old growth trees and then over manicured lawns. Two people had settled at the edge of those gardens, and unbeknownst to them they were being watched.

"Do you think Jane and the Boss…you know?"

Cho raised a brow at his redheaded teammate while Rigsby gave a snort behind his nearly finished beer.

"He didn't leave the CBI after Lisbon shot Red John. That has to mean something, right?" Rigsby added, taking his last swallow of beer. "The entire betting pool was slanted in favor of Jane being arrested for killing Red John or Jane getting killed while trying to kill Red John." Rigsby didn't bother to mention the few sadists who bet on the obsessed consultant killing himself at some point. "And everybody thought he'd leave after…"

"I didn't." Van Pelt defended, swirling the chardonnay in her glass.

"Me neither." Cho agreed, placing his own glass up to his lips.

Rigsby looked down at his empty and began to peel the label. "Anyway, I think—I think maybe Jane stayed for her…" Rigsby's voice trailed off when Van Pelts head shot up and caught his eye. Cho rolled his eyes and took another drink.

The three of them continued to sit in the shadows of the back veranda of the vineyards old Italianate mansion, watching another "moment" being played out between their boss and her mentalist in the homes back garden. They had just spent the last five long, frustrating days on a case they all felt fortunate to have ended. The entire team had finished their supper with the vineyards future owner, an hour earlier. The present owner had been arrested earlier today by the team for murder three times over, rape, and extortion with a long laundry list of other no less grievous charges. One of those charges being assault on an officer.

It had felt particularly good slapping the cuffs on the perp this time out. And even more so after they watched their consultant viciously and quickly knock the man out cold in a manner they had not expected from their usually physically deficient colleague. Jane's reaction had been in retaliation for what had been attempted on their boss and friend moments before.

Lisbon had come across the perp, a Mr. Leroy Madder, before Jane and the team could warn her of the mans dark intents. There had been an altercation between the suspect and Lisbon when the team got to the office complex, and it was soon ended by their entrance into the room. After Mr. Madder was picked up off the floor from Jane's beating and read his rights, he was tossed to the local Leo's for holding. Lisbon had refused to file sexual assault charge against their suspect, leaving it at assault. She said she wasn't going to merit a torn shirt and a bruised ego the distinction and she was just glad to have been apart of catching the loathsome and unrepentative son-of-a-bitch.

The team wouldn't have thought less of her if she had filed a sexual assault, they'd even argued the fact, but they understood and let it be. Jane on the other hand, had kept his silence at Lisbon's side; his busted and bloodied hand hung against his side and was left unchecked by the same paramedics that Lisbon had refused.

Cho remembered the way Jane had stared stonily at Madder while he was being led away by the officers, the man very well could have been Red John's replacement to the mentalist. If only Mr. Madder knew... And Van Pelt was still moved by how Jane had not once stayed more than a few feet from Lisbon's side since. The look alone he'd kept on her was nothing short of humbling.

Their boss had batted away everyone's concerns and caring hands after the situation had been neutralized and injuries were being assessed, and yet she took the jacket Jane offered to cover her. She'd yelled at everyone for hovering_. "It's not like the guy got further than second base with me. I've had worse dates!"_ she'd grumbled sarcastically. But she had allowed Jane to steer her to the car without a thought and let him drive without a complaint. Jane had given her some space when they got to the local lock up to give statement and deal with the business side that went with catching a criminal. But as soon as they were out the door, Jane had fell back in step without any sarcasm sent his way or threat of bodily harm from their tensed and tired boss.

A couple hours had elapsed and it was evening now. The team unanimously decided to forgo the long trip home tonight and took up Faire L'Amour Vineyards on their offer to stay one more night at the old house that had been their living quarts during the case, for some good food, good wine, and some well deserved rest. It wasn't case closed pizza but it was a hell of a welcome break in a very beautiful part of wine country.

"He doesn't wear his ring anymore." Cho met Van Pelts questioning gaze. He figured the other two agents hadn't noticed yet or it would already have been a topic last month when the consultant came into the bullpen sans wending band. "Even heard he was selling that ghost house of his in Malibu."

"So maybe…?" Van Pelt gently grinned, while she continued to watch the pair in the gardens with her colleagues.

Out in the garden, Jane sat perched upon a stone and earth wall just off the edge of the stone walk, only a few feet from a resting Lisbon. She had taken her glass of wine into the garden after supper to unwind away from the others and had found comfort in a low hanging hammock not too far from the porch. She had fallen asleep at some point, being the wine or the day or maybe both. Jane had not wakened her, only watched with a steady and unfaltering gaze much like an affected lover or concerned parent. For the last fifteen minutes the only movement from either of the two had been the slight rock of the hammock and the gentle toss of Jane's curls in the wind.

Silently, the three watched Jane gracefully jump off the wall with little sound and then remove his jacket once more to cover his sleeping charge. He gave no notice that he was being watched as he kneeled at the head of the hammock, beside Lisbon's turned face. Reaching out he smoothed her hair up off her neck and cheek with the pads of his nimble fingers and then quietly sat upon the ground to continue his vigil over the resting brunette. A gentle, wistful smile had fallen upon his lips, lighting the concerned stare he kept upon her. It was a rare smile for the team to see—for anyone to have seen really. For this was the real Patrick Jane.

"I think maybe we should go inside." Van Pelt stood and picked up her glass. The two men got up without prompting. They didn't need to watch this. Although nothing erotic or inappropriate, the moment was intimate—too intimate a moment to be spying on of their friends.

"Maybe they do having something going on, Grace." Rigsby wiggled his brows while he whispered conspiringly.

"I don't know, Wayne." Grace grinned bashfully. "Maybe he's just trying to take care of her, like she tries with him…"

_mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist_

Late that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Grace Van Pelt had found her stomach rumbling and tiptoed out of bed and then down the stairs towards the mansions kitchen. _'God, I'm getting to be like Rigsby' _she smiled at the thought.

Before she turned the corner to the kitchen, a small cry could be heard from down the hall. The natural curiosity of a police getting the best of her, she quietly moved down the corridor to the source of the sound and found an open door. Before she stepped in, she could tell it was a library, the smell of old books and leather wafted out along with something else yet defined. As she reached for the door knob and gave a gentle nudge, her eyes caught on something pale and moving in the moonlight that bathed the back half of the room. It was Jane's blond curls, his back and backside and he was steadily and vigorously moving between Lisbon's spread thighs.

'_Oh my!'_ Grace's eyes widened with pure shock and her hand rose to her mouth to stop any sound. She meant to back out of the doorway but could not get her feet to move or her eyes to move away from the spectacularly passionate scene before her.

It appeared the lovers had been at their labors for a while; a sheen of sweat coated the rigid muscles of Jane's stark naked body and what parts of Lisbon that could be seen from around Jane, glistened in the moonlight. Lisbon was partly sitting and being held against a wide book shelf's ledge, her robe and legs spread wide and her head thrown back into the upper shelves. She held onto Jane's shoulders and hair while he held her in place and feasted upon her lips, neck and chest with alternating fervor.

"Patrick… "A strangled moan fell from the writhing brunette while her lover pushed far into her body, holding her against the shelves by the sheer momentum of his unfaltering thrusts.

It was a raw and passionate display, and yet it could only be described as tender. It wasn't their first time, that was plain to see. And it wasn't just sex, it couldn't be. Grace heard another small sob escape Lisbon and then watched as Jane reached his busted and now bandaged hand into her hair and pulled her face to his. He began to ardently kiss away the shiny wet trails that streaked down his lover's face, bearing her weight and the weight that had built up in her heart, while he continued to pleasure her with an all consuming determination and skill. Grace should not have been surprised that Patrick Jane would not perform any act with anything less.

"Shhh, Teresa. I have you. I love you." Jane cooed lovingly against Lisbon's cheek and then her parted lips. "Let go now, just let go…"

And she did.

Van Pelt felt her own heart and body explode, while Lisbon's legs wrapped around Jane's straining body and clenched. Lisbon's cry was quickly caught within Jane's long and fiery kiss and was then followed by his own heavy moan which he quickly pushed into the crook of her bare shoulder.

'_O God!'_ Grace finally found the ability to back away from the sated pair while they trembled and heaved in the other's embrace. The young woman's heart pounded like a runners and her head swam with a bewildering mix of embarrassment, shame and wonder.

'_O God! O God! O God…!' _Grace repeated all the way back to her room.

_mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist-mentalist_

When Grace came down for breakfast the next morning, she'd hoped it would have been early enough so not to have to face the team just yet. And especially not her boss and Jane. But when she stepped out onto the veranda, she could hear the sound of a smooth, mellow hum and knew who her breakfast company would be.

"Good Morning, Grace." Jane sang out over a wide and varied breakfast spread. "Pull up a chair. These scones are positively orgasmic."

Grace stopped halfway down from sitting and choked. Jane didn't seem to notice, just continued to happily prepare his plate and the one beside him while he continued his light humming. Grace swallowed hard before settling into her own seat across from the tricky man and then began to pick from the fruit tray.

'_Did he know she saw? How…?' _There was only one answer._ 'It's Jane.'_

Grace knew hiding her knowledge of last night from her boss was going to be difficult, but she had been sadly certain that it was going to be impossible to keep it from Jane. She had just been hoping it wouldn't have been so soon and not while she had the image of Jane's round backside and her bosses moans still so clear in her head.

"Although I am not one to be called modest in any respect, my dear Lisbon is." Grace's wide eyes flew up and found Jane gracefully pouring orange juice into two glasses. She said nothing and Jane did not speak again till both glasses were settled on their trays. "I do hope you can keep what your late night hunger pains had helped you reveal, a secret between you and me or at least for now."

Jane's pale green eyes casually met Grace's over the breakfast table. He was not smiling now, but he did not seem perturbed nor embarrassed.

"I am so SO sorry, Jane…"

Jane shook his head and took in a deep breath, before looking around the sunny veranda and then back to Grace.

"It's okay, Grace. No need to apologize or explain. I am just glad it was you and not Cho or Rigsby that came upon Teresa and I lovemaking." Jane raised his brows and smiled at her. Grace could not help but grin at the thought of either man witnessing such a moment between the boss and Jane. It would have been horrendous.

A moment of silence passed between them again, before Grace worked up the nerve to say what she had been feeling since before last nights unintended viewing.

"Jane, I'm happy for you—for Lisbon too, but I'm just really glad…" Grace nervously trailed off and then smiled at a silent Jane, before looking down at her plate. "Both of you deserve to have someone to love and I'm just glad it's each other."

When Grace looked up from her plate, she was once again surprised by the ever changing faces of Patrick Jane. His eyes had lightly misted and if anything he looked like he was about to hug her, but stayed in his seat self contained. He nodded his head and then grinned.

"I do love her, you know." His grin wistful "I-I didn't think I'd be able, but..."

Grace kept Jane's eyes and warmly smiled. She wasn't the mentalist, but it seemed as if he felt relieved to be able to share these things. But as quickly as Jane opened to her-gave her a glimpse, his grin blossomed into a full Jane smile and the moment was gone.

"Well then, I think my dear Lisbon needs some sustenance." Jane stood from his chair and swiftly lifted the two loaded breakfast trays with the finesse of a juggler. "It has been a long night—a long week for our fearless leader. For all of us, really. And there is a long drive ahead."

Jane nodded his head to Grace once more and was gone with his and Lisbon's breakfasts in tow, passing between Cho and Rigsby in the door as they came down for breakfast.

"What's with the two trays?" Rigsby flopped down in the chair beside Grace and began to pile up his breakfast.

"For the Boss?" Cho asked with a raised brow.

"For the Boss." Grace gently smiled in the direction Jane had gone and then reached for the orange juice.


	7. A Question

**Disclaimer**: The Mentalist and its characters are not my own, sadly enough.

**Authors Note:** This one-shot is based on some of the spoilers for season 2. Might turn out to be AU musings after next week, but it's what came out of my head. Hope you enjoy.

**Warning:** Curse words. And of course un-beta read, so we gots mystaks hre...

A Question

by Anne Pendragon

"Why him, Lisbon?"

She'd been expecting the question for the better part of a week, but felt surprised none the less at it's asking now. She knew that her meticulously observant colleague would have seen through the pretense between her and Sam Bosco mere moments of them sharing the same air. She figured Jane hadn't said anything earlier because he was waiting for the perfect moment, where she could not freely hit him or shoot him without an audience or cause danger to the public or self.

Lisbon finally looked away from the road long enough to catch the steady stare of her formally silent consultant and frowned_. _Jane had been silent more often than not since Red John's case had been turned over to Agent Bosco's team. Aside from the spectacular pissing contest Jane had pursued with the senior agent in her office the second day and today's latest attempt at unlawful hypnotism of a suspect—an act that had not gone passed Minnelli this time around and had led to a thorough dressing down by their boss just minutes before leaving the CBI building...

'_Correction, my boss.' _Lisbon's frown deepened._ 'Because Jane has no boss, just babysitters with badges and guns.'_

Aside from that, Jane had been acting more reclusive, eerily manageable even. Lisbon had just assumed Jane was planning his next maneuver against the unmovable Sam Bosco, because she would not believe that the infallible mentalist's intentions for Red John could be so easily dissuaded or crushed by this new changing of the guards.

"I'm seriously hoping that's not what you've been pondering so deeply this week, because you're wasting your time looking for an answer to that question." Lisbon finally grumbled, her eyes held firm on the road ahead. She knew it was useless to deny not knowing who 'him' was or that there was indeed a regrettable history. And she also knew that this was just Jane's first strike before the bombardment...

"Actually I've been thinking that Minnelli may need to start better minding his blood pressure and a proper nights rest if he continues to insist on yelling that loud and long in the future. I think our suspect was about to tell me—before you so rudely interrupted—what we are now going to have to find out by taking this long trip back to the scene of the crime..." Lisbon opened her mouth in attempt to argue, but then closed it while Jane continued to bullet through his most recent observations. "...I think that I like the chili from Rudy's over their chicken noodle. Very spicy to the uninitiated, but good none the less. I have also surmised that Agent Bosco likes their chili—but with crackers and a great deal of Milk of Magnesia..." Lisbon rolled her eyes at Jane's never ending juvenile streak. "...and he is a lecherous self-righteous bureaucrat behind a badge. And know this my dear Lisbon, it is **never** a waste of my time when the subject concerns you."

'_Damn him.'_ Lisbon felt her grip loosen on the steering wheel before pulling the SUV back from the berm, mentally cursing herself for letting Jane once again make her react to his musings. Eyes stubbornly focused back on the road, she could not see the mercurial blonds knowing stare from the passenger seat, but she knew it was there.

"I think we need to focus on the present case, Jane." Lisbon barked out, not giving any visible sign of credence to any of his observations. The swerve off the road had already given plenty. "So stop messing with other team's take-out orders. And stop hypnotizing our suspects. You can do that only so many times till Minnelli..."

"Meh." Jane turned in his seat to better watch his companion. "I've done it plenty and I'm still here..."

"You're still here because of our solve rate and me—I mean I..." Lisbon flustered from what she'd accidentally implied, countering quickly. "I cover for your ass, Jane. So help me, I do. And that's why your still here." When Jane did not retort, Lisbon quickly glanced back over at her companion and felt her grip on the steering wheel slip once more.

The teasing smirk she'd expected to receive for her possible Freudian slip had not appeared across the consultants handsome features. If anything he looked surprised, even startled by what her words accidently implied. She let herself foolishly wonder if maybe what she'd said wasn't so much a Freudian slip on her part but a truthful calling out for him?

Jane was the first to turn away, directing his attentions to the moving scenery outside the passenger's side. The two fell into an uneasy silence. Lisbon had thought the conversation had ended, at least temporarily, patting herself on the back for her unintentional win. She should have known better...

"I think he was a replacement father figure. Someone who may have been more like your father before the drinking, but maybe similar to around the time he began the emotional neglect." Jane quickly sliced out, almost sounding angry under the smooth cadence of his voice. "Someone who was more than happy to take under his wing a lovely green girl like you had once been. Shown you the 'ins' and 'outs'..." Jane raised his fingers in quick air quotes "...of this chosen profession you've made into a bona fide calling. Your own act of atonement really, for all the other people in your life who you had rightly felt powerless to save as a civilian..."

"Dammit Jane!"

The SUV abruptly swerved off the road and stopped on the berm Lisbon had already swerved onto twice since starting this latest battle of wills with Jane. Cutting the engine, the enraged agent turned on the startled but no less intrigued or opinionated master manipulator as he continued his cutting observations.

"Of course, you were young and full of self-righteous naivety back then, thinking you could have saved a man as broken as your father, in the first place. Nothing at all like how you are now." Jane's smile bordered on cruel, his words sarcastic. There was no doubt he was meaning her hopeful intentions for him. "Now, back to Senior Agent Bosco, the replacement father figure you had allowed into your life. I'm sure you weren't aware he was married at first... Wait a minute, you did. Oh Lisbon, to think so little of yourself back then..."

"Shut up, Jane. Shut. Up." Lisbon snapped, gripping the steering wheel as if intending to break it in her bare hands. Jane's rant halted to a stop. "Is this what you wanted from me Jane, a reaction? Do you blame me that much for losing the Red John case? Do you think I should have gotten myself fired, trying to keep it for you? You're already expecting me to turn the other way when we do catch Red John and you carve him up like a Christmas ham. So what do you want from me?" she yelled; only receiving Jane's continued silence. "Damn you, Jane. And damn you and your childish lashing out, using what you think you know about someone to hurt them..."

Lisbon trailed off before her voice could crack. Her eyes still steady on the now silent and unreadable antagonist in the seat beside her. _'Dammit for letting him get to me...'_ Behind her eyes began to prick and she cursed herself for letting herself feel so hurt. This was Jane, after all. Why had she expected him to treat her any different than he did the rest of the world. _'My mistake to think otherwise.'_

"My past relationship with Sam Bosco made no difference who received Red John's case or how hard I tried to keep it. If anything, it would have made me fight even harder. And frankly with your history with this case, I don't know why we were aloud to keep it as long as we did, no matter our solve rate." Lisbon swallowed hard, waiting for her own reaction—any reaction from the now unreadable and silent antagonist at her side. She dared him to contradict the things both of them knew to be true.

Lisbon turned back to the road in front of them and roughly started the car before she spoke again, her voice a little less strong, but no less certain. Who was she to deny Jane the answer he'd so ruthlessly pursued, now after already letting him see so much of what she deemed off limits to anyone else. And maybe a part of her just wanted him to understand.

"Sam and I had been a mistake. It was mine and it was long ago. I had thought I'd found something I was lacking—something he could be. I'm not that person anymore. You of all people should understand something about mistakes—how making them changes us, for the good and the bad."

Once again she met Jane's fathomless stare, not really expecting to get an answer from this oddly quiet version of him. Maybe it was too much to wish for his mask to drop away or show a sign-any sign that he cared at all enough to be affected by the things she had said. When no response was given, she reached for the gear shift, but was soon stopped by the strong grasp of a quick hand. And startled emerald eyes quickly met stormy sea green.

"There is nothing lacking in who you are, Lisbon." his voice just audible over the passing a.m. traffic. "And I don't blame you. I'm just angry that you still believe you're something less and that knowing Sam Bosco does indeed still affect you because of that belief." Jane turned away, looking back out at the traffic and then down at the hand she hadn't pushed away. "You are an amazing person, Teresa Lisbon. All the more amazing for keeping that indecent amount of hope you still harbor for this world and some of the sorry individuals within it, when all you have ever gotten in return was hurt. You're better than him, Lisbon. Better than most of us."

His lips softly turned into a sad smile, emanating an uncharacteristic humility that almost made her forgive him of everything he'd said. And then he met her eyes once more. Tired and worn and lacking of all the luster he'd manufactured for the rest of the world, his eyes let her consider forgiving him of all the rest.

She knew this was a side of Jane, he shown sparingly if at all to the world. It was his weak underbelly. It was the ugly and empty that was left in his heart. She'd already seen the mean and dark. Had caught glimpses of the disturbed. What he shown now, was what hid behind the bright disarming smiles and child like glee. It was what he had become because of his mistakes. It was honesty and it was what he offered her now as an apology, because he knew she'd treasure it far more than another feeble 'I'm sorry'.

"And I am quite the master of mistakes." Jane cleared his throat, bringing back some of its false bravado. "I know what they can take away and leave you with. I will never stop paying for mine, but rightly so." A mirthless flicker slipped over his lips, not reaching his now earnest stare. "I also know mistakes can come by way of good intentions. Don't make me one of those mistakes. I told you I'm not to be fixed..."

"And I told you that fixing you isn't in my job description." She allowed a small sad smile, not of pity, but of care. "I'm just not going to let you make the mistake of giving up on you."

A heavy silence filled the car, but not the space between them. What was already there spoke volumes and yet it was still to be defined. Jane quietly looked away and then down at the hand he still held over hers. He gave it a squeeze and then pulled away. For a few moments more he did not speak—maybe could not. "You know for a cop you're an unfaltering optimist."

Lisbon caught the minute waver in Jane's voice and took it as a win. Maybe Patrick Jane was an arrogant, childish and frustrating bane of her existence, but he'd yet to falter in the one task every other man in her life had failed. He was still here. She wished that meant less to her than it did, but it was what she had. It was a start.

"And you're damn lucky that I am." Pulling into drive, Lisbon crept the SUV back onto the road, pointing it steadily on the road ahead. Eyes locked on the horizon, she could not see her mentalists knowing smile from the passenger seat beside her, but she knew it was there.


End file.
